When a shaft of sunlight allowed into the room by a gap in the curtain finally angled its way into Phichit's eyes to disturb his sleep, his first reaction was to groan softly, turn over, and snuggle into the warm body next to him in an attempt to block out reality – and his potential hangover – for a while longer.

His second reaction was to freeze and wonder why there was a warm body next to him, because he had definitely checked himself into his Vegas hotel room solo several days before.

Okay, okay, think. Phichit's head wasn't pounding with a hangover – thank you once again, fortuitously high alcohol tolerance – but memories of the night before were still fuzzy at best, only offering tantalizing flashes of shining hazel eyes, the scratch of stubble against his chest, and a giddy feeling of freedom. Further distracting him was a fierce thirst, a need to pee, and the occasional (and frankly adorable) snuffling noises that emerged from the mound of blankets next to him.

Deciding to get the most pressing of the questions out of the way, Phichit took a deep breath and lifted the bedcovers currently cocooning his bed partner just enough to get a good look, please let it be someone with a sense of humor about all this…

It was… Christophe Giacometti.

Oh.

Oh.

Phichit dropped the covers again.

That made things… interesting.

Phichit spared a second glance under the covers to confirm that they were both semi-clothed, Chris in a tiny thong and himself in a pair of boxers that were not his own, and glanced around the room to see various articles of clothing strewn about the floor. His mind offered him a brief memory of laughing as they struggled to strip each other of their clothing without spending a moment longer than necessary with their lips apart and the not necessary (though appreciated) confirmation that the underwear was only a last-minute concession they'd made last night when they realized they couldn't find the door placard to deter the housekeeping staff from entering the room.

Okay, so… the night had probably gone about the way his fantasies would have wanted it to, but if that was so why wouldn't his treacherous brain let him remember all the details?

The precious, likely steaming hot, and hopefully not one-of-a-kind details?

The growing demand from his bladder forced Phichit to refocus his attention and he carefully slipped out of bed – for goodness' sake, was it in the shape of a heart? – and grabbed his phone from the bedside table where his drunk-self had fortunately had the foresight to place it. A brief moment of disorientation later – Christophe had apparently booked a suite and the layout was quite different from Phichit's own single room – he had located the bathroom and shuffled inside. A glance at the large, glass-walled shower offered him another flash of memory, this time the shivery feeling of having his back pressed against the cold glass while Chris dropped to his knees in front of him.

Whoa. Okay, well. At least they had made good use of the fancy suite's amenities, right?

Phichit put his phone on the counter a safe distance from both the toilet and sink – he'd learned that lesson more than once – before focusing on his body's immediate needs. It wasn't until he was washing his hands that he noticed the narrow gold band circling his finger.

Huh. Well that was… unexpected.

A quick glance out into the darkened hotel room revealed Christophe still asleep, although now curled around Phichit's abandoned pillow.

Okay, fine. Time to try and draw his fuzzy memories of the past night into focus. Phichit filled a glass with water, downed it in a single swallow, and refilled it. He sipped absentmindedly while perched on the edge of the soaking tub the suite's luxurious bathroom sported.

His texts from before he turned his phone on Do Not Disturb mode revealed the good luck wishes and dinner plans he'd remembered, and then a series of messages from Yuuri asking where he'd disappeared to before wishing him a goodnight. The last texts from Christophe were the typical back-and-forth flirting of their usual conversations followed several hours later by a simple See you in ten minutes, don't forget your identification. complete with the winking and blowing a kiss emoji.

Flipping over to his camera roll, Phichit noticed his phone's memory was several hundred photos richer than it had been yesterday and flicked through them briefly before opening up Instagram. He'd explore the many pictures in detail later; for now he wanted to find out which photos drunk-him had decided would make the cut for public posting.

The second and third row of his feed were familiar: a few shots of him sightseeing through Vegas, a late dinner with a group of fellow skaters after the ice show, a selfie of him and Yuuri together with a silvery-blond head already resting against the table behind them… and then there in the top row were three new additions that Phichit didn't remember clearly.

The oldest was a selfie of himself looking faux-shocked (and not-very-secretly pleased, if he did say so himself) with a hand – complete with gold band – pressed against his mouth while Christophe pressed a kiss to his cheek with a sly look towards the camera. This was followed by a simple picture of their hands together with fingers intertwined and light shining off the matching rings on their fingers.

The final picture in pride of place in the beginning of his feed, was a rear-angled silhouetted picture of the two of them standing on a balcony somewhere, each with an arm wrapped around each other's back and gazing out at the brilliant lights of Vegas.

Phichit had no idea who took this photo for them, and it wasn't framed the way Phichit would have done it himself, but it was still… perfect, somehow. Seeing himself with his head resting against Christophe's arm and Christophe's fingers cupping his hip, Phichit had a phantom memory of warmth against his hip even now.

Wow. So they'd really… Wow.

He should probably keep his phone on Do Not Disturb, at least until he was ready to handle the inevitable maelstrom of reactions to his very public postings.

Hearing shifting and a soft moan from the main room, and with no time to recover further, Phichit took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom. He found Christophe, sleep mussed and frankly gorgeous despite the pained expression on his face, raising his hand against the sun's glare. The light that had woken Phichit that afternoon had crept along the bed to finally reach Christophe's face.

Phichit took pity on him and walked over to the window, drawing the curtains fully closed and returning the room to dimness. He smiled as Christophe collapsed back against the pillow in relief and rubbed his hands across his face for several moments before looking up to finally meet Phichit's eyes.

His smile was really something, Phichit thought, unable to resist returning Christophe's expression with a grin of his own.

"So, I'm trying to remember what happened last night, but I have to admit that my mind is drawing a blank." Christophe didn't even have the grace to look sheepish at this admission. "I noticed that we seem to have acquired some new jewelry…"

Phichit laughed. "Yes, well, apparently we were quite busy last night." At Christophe's glance around the room, eyes raised at not just the untidy bedcovers but also the evidence of their hastily discarded clothing, Phichit laughed again. "Even before that, I mean."

With a soft huff of laughter, Chris scooted over in the bed and raised the edge of the sheet, beckoning Phichit closer. "Looks like I've got some catching up to do. Care to fill me in?"

Phichit took the offer without hesitation, pressing his body along the warm length of Christophe's. "It would be my pleasure."

Christophe ran a hand along Phichit's thigh before resting it on Phichit's knee. "I certainly hope so."